


when my skies are grey (but you're the only sunshine I see)

by blankcamellia



Series: Forever Yours [3]
Category: SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Hokuto is not suffering, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, a little bit of angst i guess, but I promise they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankcamellia/pseuds/blankcamellia
Summary: He wants to escape, wants to run away, away from reality, away from responsibilities. Away from himself.
Relationships: Kyomoto Taiga/Matsumura Hokuto
Series: Forever Yours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711498
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	when my skies are grey (but you're the only sunshine I see)

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write it all soft and sweet but apparently, I COULDN'T.

He shuffles his way inside, back into the warm, inviting household of his home. The rehearsal ended late, way later than usual due to complications and things he didn't quite understand but he had waited until they could continue. It had to be a success. He caught a taxi back home, trains stopped a few hours ago, the cold spring weather making him shudder, despite his layers of clothes, as he crosses the short distance between the door and the car. It's making him restless and not even the serene night sky of Tokyo calmed him down.

The rehearsals had been tough, not only because of the setbacks but he felt like he didn't match up with the rest. He wasn't good enough. He had to do better, be better, act better. The frustration of not being on par with everyone else. The pressure of having to be on par with everyone else. Dark walls surrounding him, hours and hours that never stop, day in and day out, no light in sight. It feels hopeless. He needs to reach one note higher, walk one step further, dive deeper, all to be able to stand beside the others. 

He tries to breathe but it gets stuck somewhere between his lungs and throat. Coldness surrounding him despite the car's warm system. He doesn't feel it. There's only a dull, grey cloud embracing him. He wants to escape, wants to run away, away from reality, away from responsibilities. Away from himself.

They say he's shining bright, but he can't see it. It doesn't show up for him. There's a bland mix of colors when he looks at himself in the mirror - lost and found at the same time. Sometimes he doesn't see himself as pink. He doesn't see himself as the captivating color people either love or despise. It feels like he’s losing color, the saturation of his view dropping, hues changing and brightness dulling. 

His name weighs heavy on his shoulders, a weight he's been shouldering all his life, something he never thought of as a burden until now. It's not exactly a burden, but it's a weight he rather gets off. He knows he'll forever be Kyomoto Taiga, forever Kyomoto Masaki's son, but right now, he wants to be Taiga. Someone who got his own worth, for the things he'd done himself. Not because of his father. He wants to be Taiga. Not Masaki's son. 

He loves his father, he really does, and he knows very well how his father has contributed literally nothing to his fame and upbringing within the entertainment world but still, the title shadows him. He wants one headline, one article to be just about him, and only him. 

There are days like these when everything he's achieved on his own doesn’t matter at all because no one cares. No one sees him. Days when the cold surrounds him, envelopes him with a blanket of insecurities, anxiety, and frustration, and when every word he hears is an arrow aimed his worth. But he tries his best to hide it, mask it with smiles and laughter - like always, as he's supposed to. Putting all the hard work on as a means to hide his inner turmoil, the coldness that surrounds him even in broad daylight. It all seems endless, never-ending, and all he wants is for the day to be over. Even if he knows it'll be the same tomorrow again. 

Then, at nights like this, he wants to quit everything. 

He throws his coat off, almost missing the hanger, but he fixes it and carefully places it on properly. His shoulders ache, his feet hurt and his eyelids are heavy, but the familiar scent of cedarwood calms him down, even if it’s just a little. A small smile appears on his lips as he toes off his shoes, thinking about the tomato soup in the fridge from yesterday, how it’ll warm him up before he jumps into bed. 

The lingering smell of coffee makes him feel fuzzy inside, throwing his body back to the morning when everything was warmer, a bit brighter, and much happier. Surrounded by white walls, warm sunlight from the windows, newly brewed coffee, and gentle arms wrapping around his body. 

He warms the soup, fiddling with his phone as he waits for the microwave to finish, barely bothering to even care what’s on his feed, it’s just a way to waste time. The microwave dings and he gets his soup out, wasting no time to dig into it, feeling how the warm liquid heats up his body from the inside. He still feels cold but he knows it’s because of other reasons. He tries not to think too much about it, he’s finally home, at the place he feels most comfortable, even if the walls feel a bit grey. 

It’s not until he’s ready to crawl into bed that he finally feels like the world lights up a bit. He doesn’t turn on the light, doesn’t bother with it as he knows the way to the bed by heart, lifts the covers up and slinks in. 

It’s then he feels the warmth, the colors, the light, come back to him when the body already on the bed turns to him and sneaks one arm around his body. 

“You’re late,” Hokuto mumbles into the pillow, barely awake and Taiga can’t help but think Hokuto has been up waiting for him, which makes him feel a bit guilty. 

“We ran late, sorry,” he replies, shuffling closer, closer to the heat that is Hokuto. The moment he rests his head against Hokuto’s chest, it feels like everything he shouldered before disappears. The warmth his boyfriends emit is enough for him to feel it’s summer already, a bright sunny day with clear skies and the way Hokuto’s arms just fit perfectly around him makes him feel whole. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Hokuto presses a soft kiss to his head, breathing in Taiga’s scent, finally relaxing fully as he’s in his arms. “You’re home now, and that’s what matters.”

Hokuto’s voice has this effect on him. Everything in the world disappears and there’s only the two of them left. Hokuto brings him home.

The walls aren’t grey anymore, they painted with soft, pastel colors, ever-changing with every breath Hokuto makes and it’s all Taiga ever wanted. He forgets about everything he worries about, shrugging off all his responsibilities, all his pressure, all the expectations. Back are the fuzzy feelings of comfort and safety, his walls down and gates open.

Gone are the coldness of exhaustion, pain, and stress, all replaced with an overflowing emotion of something he can’t describe - something he feels only for Hokuto. It makes him feel secure, vulnerable, happy, content, excited, restless, and intoxicated at the same time.  
Hokuto is the only black and grey he needs in life.

All his limbs turn soft as if they haven’t done anything at all today, as he tries to curl up closer to Hokuto, closer to the source of his strength, the source of his energy, his lifeline, the holder of his heart.

He knows he’s being extra clingy tonight and that they both need to sleep, but he wants to stay a little bit longer, dwell in the feeling of being conscious in Hokuto’s presence a bit longer. Let everything wash away and let only Hokuto remain as the shore he belongs to. 

It’s when their hands link together, fingers finding their match, that another part of him feels whole and complete. The rings on their fingers clink against each other and he stops breathing. 

He remembers now, realizes now, that everything he felt earlier doesn’t matter anymore. He squeezes Hokuto’s hand tighter, not wanting to let go ever because he knows now. He’s Hokuto’s. Taiga is Hokuto’s.

Soft chimes of bells ringing in the background, bright daylight, and tears of happiness flood back into his mind, taking him back to the day when they exchanged vows of eternal bonds and love.

He’s no longer Kyomoto. He’s Matsumura.

He’s finally simply Taiga, and to Hokuto, he’s always been Taiga.

He’s home now, and that’s what matters.


End file.
